Blainchel Drabbles
by civillove
Summary: drabbles of requests that I've gotten on my tumblr.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Blainchel Drabbles  
**Pairing**: blainchel  
**Type: **five drabbles…some are longer than others (all of which are future AU and take place in New York at different points in their life; EXCEPT drabble 3, which is future AU but it takes place in Lima)  
**Rating**: NC-17 for naughty words in some places  
**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything yadaaaa.  
**Author's note**: drabble prompts for Rachel: kitten, boxes, hammock, kink (this includes bloodplay~ so if you don't like it skip the fourth drabble), first snowfall  
**AN2:** Feel better

**Kitten**

Blaine thought he might have been getting a cold. It was October in New York and every year around this time he would always pick something up—whether it was strep throat, a bad cough, or even just a rough cold, he always seemed to end up sick, on and off, through November and December from working himself too thin and taking the subway every day before walking the few blocks to theater he worked as an understudy at.

It was a bit different; however, when he pulled himself out of bed as his alarm went off to walk into the bathroom to start a shower. Usually, his colds always started out the same. He'd be run down for a few days, get a really bad headache the night before, and wake up congested, headachy and run a strong fever. He closed the bathroom door slightly, leaning against the sink after turning the shower on to let the hot water start up. He coughed harshly into his shoulder, his throat scratchy—it felt like millions of tiny pins were poking around his Adam's apple. He sighed softly, sniffling before running a hand over his face, stealing a glance at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Wow, what a mess. He was pretty sure the face greeting him couldn't have been him—his face was pale, the dark bags under his eyes bruised with purples and blues, his cheeks were flushed and his nose was red and runny. His eyes were unbelievably tired looking, and so goddamn itchy that he was this close to scratching them out of his sockets. His curls were frizzy and sticking up in every which way and on top of all that he felt like he had to sneeze but it just….wouldn' .out.

He grabbed a tissue and closed his eyes, wrinkling his nose and sniffling…trying to coax the damn thing out—he _almost_ had it and then—

He jumped as he felt a pair of arms around him, the sneeze retreating back into his nose. He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose, turning around to look down at his girlfriend who was, admittedly, too adorable when she was half asleep.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked softly.

Blaine sniffled, rubbing his nose frustratingly with the back of his wrist, a whine building up in his chest but not escaping out of his throat. He crumpled the unused tissue in his hand and sighed, his eyes closing as he felt Rachel press kisses along his jaw where scruff had started to form before peppering them along his cheekbones.

"Yeah, I'm fine I just need to—" He turned his head quickly, angling his body away from her as he let out a harsh sneeze into the crumpled tissue between his fingers.

He sighed softly as he felt his shoulders slowly uncoil under Rachel's hands rubbing his lower back and upper arm. He sniffled; throwing the tissue towards the trash can before he closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into his eye sockets to stop a headache from pinching the back of his eyes. He stopped after a few moments and looked at Rachel, giving her a small smile before he leaned closer and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I'm fine; I think it's just a cold."

Although it felt…rather different, his throat scratched, his eyes were itchy—his nose was running and tickly. It was almost like his allergies were acting up, which didn't even make sense. Allergy season was over, the leaves were changing into Fall, the weather quickly chilling and killing anything with pollen. He was only allergic to a few things; pollen, bunnies and cats. And since the pollen season was dwindling down, and they didn't own any pets (much to Rachel's dismay), it could have only been one thing: a cold.

"I better get in the shower; I'm going to be late for practice." He cupped Rachel's face and ran his thumb across her cheek before pecking the side of her mouth.

He pulled back from her and slid off his white t-shirt, throwing it towards the hamper they kept in the corner of the room. He slid off his drawstring pajama pants and felt Rachel's body come up behind him—and from what he could feel…she had somehow taken off her thick pink robe along with her thick patterned thermal pajamas and bra all between the discarding of his own clothes. He must have been a lot more sluggish than he realized this morning. He bit his lip, his eyes fluttering closed as he felt Rachel's fingers trail down his chest, dancing across his happy trail before dipping into his boxers. His hips jerked as she trailed the top of his cock, blood rushing to the tip as it quivered in interest.

"I'm going to make you feel better." She hummed softly, gently grasping him and stroking hard and fast before tugging down his boxers and her underwear and dragging them both into the hot stream of the shower.

He smirked. "Rachel…how am I supposed to be on time if you join me—" He was cut off by a harsh kiss, basically all teeth, lips and tongue. He moaned softly into the kiss, his hard cock sliding against her tan stomach as he drew her close.

He chuckled against her smiling lips, rubbing her back as he tugged the shower curtain closed.

Blaine was definitely going to be late for practice.

000

Unfortunately, the steam of the hot shower and the pulsing of his orgasm hadn't kept his sinuses cleared for very long. No more than ten minutes after his shower his nose was so red from sneezing that he probably wouldn't be able to be distinguished from Rudolph the reindeer.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help." Rachel rubbed his back as he grabbed his coat, slipping it on before grabbing his bag.

"Not your fault. You helped for a little while there." He winked softly, making her giggle and bite her lower lip.

He turned and cupped both sides of her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead (just in case he was getting a cold he didn't want to get her sick) before pulling back to give her a gentle smile.

"I'll be home later tonight. I'll pick up some dinner." He sniffled wetly; grabbing a tissue after Rachel playfully grabbed his ass on his way out the door.

Blaine licked his lips and got halfway down the hall before he patted his jeans pocket, swearing softly as he realized he forgot his wallet and went back down to their apartment and unlocked the front door. He tried to remember where he had last set it down…seeing as how things usually progressed rather quickly when he got home. Sometimes they barely made it through dinner before Rachel was tugging his jeans down and Blaine was struggling with the damn buttons on her blouse as he tried to lift her up into his arms to take her into their bedroom.

He pushed open their door, glancing around the half of a hallway that led into their small kitchen (just perfect for two less than average height people, of course) and—surprisingly he didn't see Rachel anywhere in sight as he closed the door. He actually thought she'd be in the kitchen, making herself an English muffin with some sort of nut butter and a cup of her tea…

Blaine sniffed, rubbing his nose with the back of his wrist as he looked around the living room, small kitchen in the middle of the space between their couch and kitchen (which he designated as their dining room) and around the island counter of their kitchen for his wallet. With no luck he figured it could only be in a few more places.

He passed a small storage room, that Rachel had tried to turn into a work out space but the room just hadn't been big enough for an elliptical; so they just kept boxes, spare sheets and towels and random odds and ends (Rachel's trophies and Blaine's shoes) laying about in there—silent and waiting for either of their owners to really need them.

Blaine found himself hesitating before he even got to their bedroom, a sharp tickling spurring up rather suddenly in the back of his nose—his breath stifled in his chest, his arm raising to his nose before a flurry of sneezes tumbled out of him. He barely had time to breathe between them, the harshness of them all in a row making him bend slightly at his waist. No, fuck _no_—this was not a cold. He _never_ sneezed this much so suddenly, with barely a breath in-between, unless he was allergic to something. But…what the—what was he even allergic too?

"Blaine?"

He turned his head and glanced at Rachel—poking her head out of the storage room. His eyebrows furrowed and he licked his lips, digging into his pocket for spare tissues so he could blow his nose.

"Rachel? What are you—?"

"I thought you left for work." Rachel said over him, her eyes flickering to the floor before she looked up at him.

Oh, God. He knew that look. She only ever couldn't meet his gaze when she felt guilty about something. He swallowed and set his bag down to the side, opening his coat as he walked closer to her.

"I forgot my wallet. What are you doing in the storage room?"

"Nothing." She answered quickly—a little _too_ quickly for his liking.

He pressed on the door but she must have had her foot behind it, anchoring it closed because it didn't budge.

"Rachel."

"Blaine."

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Unless you're hiding a trunk full of naughty porn fantasy videos that you don't want me to see—"

"_Blaine_ Anderson."

"and honestly I'm a bit insulted, I mean we've already done the naughty student and teacher routine along with 'hi, I'm the new maid I think you have some centerpieces I need to clean'—"

"Blaine!" She bit her lip, amusement now lacing her lips as she fought off giggles.

"I think you still have that outfit in the back of your closet actually—"

She giggled and opened the door to push him against his chest. He snorted and gently grasped her hands. "What? I'm just saying, you don't have to hide anything from me—" He pressed his lips against hers, humming softly as he gently slid his lips against hers.

He stroked her back as he slowly opened her eyes, distracting her long enough to press the door all the way open and—

Was greeted with a pair of golden orange tinted eyes, staring up at him from a spot in the center of the floor. A cat. No, a _kitten_. There was a tiny, orange ball of fluff in the center of a few pillows from their living room and on one of his gray _sweaters—_there was a cat, there was a kitten in their apartment. Then it dawned on him. His so called 'cold' that had acted a lot like an allergic fit hadn't been a cold _at all. _His damn nose had managed to pick up on a little, orange tabby in their storage room. He slowly pulled back from kissing Rachel, trying to fix her with a stern glare but it was kind of more…amused and annoyed at the same time.

"Rachel we have a cat burglar." He muttered, glaring at the kitten that started cleaning behind its ears.

"Blaine…" She started, her voice was hesitant…the same tone she had used when she tried to convince him that handcuffs and candle wax had been a must that Tuesday night after too many bottles of wine.

"Rachel you _know_ I'm allergic to cats!" He nearly stomped his foot in frustration, another sneeze pinching the bridge of his nose. He turned away from her quickly before he let out two against his shoulder.

"It's harmless!"

"It's an allergy attack waiting to happen. My throat could close up!"

"Oh stop being dramatic," He turned back around to see her roll her eyes and cross her arms over her chest before she turned around and went back into the storage room to pick up the kitten. "Your allergies only consist of sneezing, itchy eyes at worst you get really congested. I've never seen hives or your throat close up." She scrunched her nose cutely at the kitten and kissed the kitten's head.

He rolled his eyes and took a step back as she brought the kitten closer. "Rachel—don't, we are getting rid of it."

Her eyes snapped up to his, filling with a pleading that made his stomach clench. "Please! It's getting cold out; I can't just—put it back in the alley behind our apartment complex where I found him. Absolutely _not_ Blaine Anderson."

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had such a hard time saying no to her—not to mention when she turned on those damn fake tears that alwaysworked even though he knew they were _fake_. He ran his fingernails over his throat as Rachel took one final step closer—and he kept a bout of sneezes at bay as the kitten reached its long arm out and gently swat at his wrist, mewing softly.

Rachel giggled. "He likes you!"

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Of course he does…he knows that I'm whats standing between him staying in a warm house or being kicked out onto a cold street."

She beamed up at him, moving to kiss the tip of his red nose as the kitten butted its head against Blaine's shoulder, meowing insistently for his attention.

"Come onnnn," She gently kissed his lower lip, nearly tugging it with her teeth. "It's nearly Halloween…we can name him Candycorn."

Blaine rolled his eyes and tried to look defiant but…he knew she already had him, _she_ knew she already had him.

"We'll keep him in the storage room until your allergies get used to him." She insisted but Blaine was already nodding, making her grin and jump with the kitten, Candycorn, in her arms before she kissed him.

All Blaine could do was pull back, turn, and sneeze.

0o0o0o0o

**Boxes**

"Oh and now the door's stuck? Really, Blaine it's _pouring_."

He rolled his eyes, pushing his shoulder into the main apartment complex door, the rain seeping down into his hair, drenching his curls and pasting them to his forehead. He ran his hand over his face and turned the key one more time before giving the door a harder slam, groaning as the wood finally gave up and opened. Rachel rushed in past him and the metal nearly cut into damn fingers as he forced the key out of the slot. He let the door slammed closed, walking two steps behind her, their clothes dripping with rain water as they went up the stairs to their apartment.

"Look, I know this place isn't exactly what we planned for it to be but…the price isn't too steep and its closer to NYADA than any other place we looked at."

Rachel unlocked the door to their apartment, which was still cluttered with boxes from when they had moved in last week—yeah, they _still_ had yet to unpack. Everything had just been so hectic lately; Rachel may have liked to think she was a native to New York but Blaine knew just as well as she did that she was having a bit of a hard time transitioning into the city life that was just so damn different from small town Lima (whether he was the only one to admit that out loud or not). He peeled off his raincoat, his t-shirt and jeans soaked through anyways. He kicked off his shoes by the door and took Rachel's coat off, taking them into the bathroom to hang them above the tub.

"What are you trying to say?" She huffed, shivering as she walked into the kitchen, wringing her hair out into the sink.

"I'm saying," He walked past her and tried to look through some of the boxes for some damn towels and some heavier pieces of clothes to wear after they took the wet ones off. "That we've been here for a week, maybe you should stop complaining about the place and give it a chance."

She gasped, settling her hands on her hips as thunder pounded against the apartment complex and making their lights flicker. "I have _not_ complained since we moved in!"

Blaine turned around and fixed her with a less than amused glare before he yanked a towel out of a box and threw it at her. She caught it before it could land on her head and huffed, peeling off her long sleeved shirt before settling it in the kitchen sink.

"Are you serious? You managed to give this place a slew of insults before we left for dinner! The shower knobs stick, the fridge isn't cold enough, the wooden floor has a dent in it, the couch isn't big enough—what _don't _you not like about this apartment?" He hissed, overturning a box to grab another towel.

The box fell and cluttered to the floor, he was pretty sure he heard something crack but he couldn't really be bothered enough to care; he was cold and wet and all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch in one of his too big sweaters. He swept past her as he found the clothes he had been looking for and changed in the bathroom, wringing out his clothes over the sink before draping them onto the tub.

Blaine could hear Rachel go through the boxes as well, no doubt looking for her own clothes. He licked his lips as he gave her a few moments to change into her warmer, dryer clothes before she set her wet ones in the sink. He was highly considering leaving this fight to continue to tomorrow and just curl up in bed to sleep but—the power flickered out after a bright shot of lightening and Blaine closed his eyes as Rachel let out a high pitched squeal that somehow turned into his name. He rushed out of the bathroom and heard boxes falling, no doubt because Rachel was running into them, trying to find a way around the couch to where he was. He knew she didn't like storms or…especially when the power went out because of storms.

"Rach?"

She knocked into something, hard and he winced as he heard the couch scrape against the wood and her whimper.

"Babe, just stay still, okay? I'm coming to you." The brief flash of lighting helped him locate her rather quickly but he managed to trip on a random piece of uneven floor (yeah okay, maybe Rachel had had a point with that one) and stubbed his toe.

He grunted and hobbled on over to her, pulling her into his embrace before settling onto the couch with her.

"See? I told you the floor sticks up!" She muttered, pushing her face into his shoulder as thunder shook the complex. He sighed softly and rolled his eyes, his toe throbbing in agreement with her as he stroked her hair.

"Yeah, yeah." He muttered.

They were quiet for a few long moments, Blaine stroking Rachel's damp hair as she pressed her cold nose into the warm skin of his neck. He held her close, pulling her onto his lap as he sat in the corner of the couch, his toe throbbing ridiculously. God, what if he broke the damn thing instead of stubbing it?

He sighed. "Alright….so maybe we should look into another place." Maybe one with a spare room for all their boxes.

Rachel nodded insistently, a secret smile (that wasn't so secret) on her lips that she had convinced him she was right.

The thunder merely roared in concurrence.

O0o0o0

**Hammock**

The hammock gently rocked back and forth as Blaine sat down on it, taking his shoes off before he pulled his legs up onto the long stretch of evergreen canvas fabric that hung tightly onto the two opposite supports. He shifted onto the hammock, the metal supports squeaking and moaning from his weight as he laid down. He sighed softly, a light and chilly wind blowing through the curls on top of his head, making him shiver and pull down his sweater over his hands as he watched the clouds skirt across the sky. It had been a long day and the sun was starting to go down, his favorite time of the season—early November, not cold enough for frost yet but just chilly enough that one always needed long sleeves on or a jacket outside. The leaves were turned, bright oranges and reds with hints of yellow against a darkening navy blue sky.

"Hey, I knew I'd find you out here."

He turned to see Rachel come out of his parent's house, a small smile on her lips as she descended the deck stairs. She had a long black sleeved shirt on that fit her tiny form, a single gold chain hanging loosely on her neck and shining bright over the dark fabric. Jeans hugged her in all the right places while tiny gray boots crunched through the dry, dead leaves as she made her way over to him.

He sat up a little in the hammock, hoping not to knock the thing off balance enough that he tumbled off and smiled at her, taking her hand when she was close enough.

"I didn't mean to abandon you in there," He licked his lips. "My mom can be sort of intense, I just needed some air." He ran his thumb over her knuckles as he squeezed her hand.

"Its okay, your mom is a sweetheart anyways."

She bit her lip as Blaine gently and slowly pulled her down to lay next to him in the rather large hammock. He shifted slightly so she'd be able to mold her body into his and felt successful when they didn't topple over onto the grass. He hummed, pressing kisses into her cheek and cheek bone as he tugged on the single braid she had in her hair.

"It helps that she absolutely adores you." Blaine chuckled.

"Well, one could only hope the mother of your fiancé likes you." She whispered as she rested her head on the space above his heart.

He smiled and picked up her hand, holding it up and spreading her fingers so that they stretched out against the branches of the tree above them. He ran his thumb down her ring finger, lacing his fingers with hers after he traced over the ring he gave her.

Blaine kissed her knuckles, humming softly—they were silent for a moment, the wind making Rachel angle her body towards Blaine to snuggle closer. He pressed a kiss to her nose, smiling against her lips afterwards.

"I wish we could put one of these up in New York." She said softly, playing with the fabric of his sweater.

"Kind of hard when you live in an apartment, no backyard of your own." He pressed a kiss to her frown, curling a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"We could always buy one and…set it up in a park under a tree." She grinned, like her idea shined with brilliancy as bright as stars.

"Oh, yeah, because I'm sure people would appreciate us setting up a random hammock under a tree we've called our own…with like, our initials or some line from a romance poem or movie." Blaine quipped, teasing her softly as he nipped at her upper lip.

She blushed prettily, the dust of pink peppering her cheeks as she smiled into his sweater. She squeezed his hand and hummed softly. "_But we loved with a love that was more than love—" _

Blaine raised his eyebrows, looking down at her. "Of all the poems out there you want that to be etched into our tree? A morbid poem that describes the death of _Annabel Lee_, Rachel, I'm insulted—"

She gasped and smacked his chest. "Blaine Anderson."

"I mean, Poe is my main home skillet poet but you'd think you'd be pick a more cheery poem—"

She cut him off with her lips on his, gently gliding as her fingers traced over his jaw. He pulled back after a moment, wrapping an arm around her and hugging her close. He smiled against her lips and kissed her upper one softly.

"_And neither the angels in Heaven above / Nor the demons down under the sea / Can ever dissever my soul from the soul /Of the beautiful Annabel Lee_;" He trailed his finger down the bridge of her nose—he had always had a soft spot for Poe. The poems may have been a bit on the dreary side, but that didn't make his words any less beautiful.

Rachel scrunched her nose. "You know, you're right…it does sound sort of morbid when you say it like that."

Blaine then proceeded to tickle her until she took back her words towards his 'main home skillet' Poe –or at least he tried to. Her giggles filled the chilled air around them, almost seeming like it was making the trees shake. Leaves gently broke off their branches and swayed down towards them as Rachel's body shakes and jerks successfully knocked them off balance on the hammock and they both tumbled towards the ground into piles of dry leaves.

0o0o0o0o0

**Kink (Bloodplay) **

Blaine glanced down at Candycorn rubbing insistently against his leg, begging for attention as he cut up the vegetables for his and Rachel's salad for dinner. He sighed as he glanced over at his girlfriend, who was leaning against the island counter, flipping through the cookbook for the recipe of the lasagna she was making. He was just glad he had remembered to take his allergy pill this morning otherwise he would have been sneezing in the lettuce.

"Rach, will you feed him? Or…hold him or give him attention or something? I'm trying to cut tomatoes."

"Mhmm," Was all she said before squinting at one of the pages in the cookbook. "How long has the lasagna been in the oven? Three minutes?"

Blaine shook Candycorn off his foot, glaring at the small creature who simply meowed at him. Snarky little shit—they should have named it _Sebastian_. He shrugged his one shoulder at her question and glanced at the glowing letters on the stove.

"Uh, five minutes?" He guessed. "Why, how long does the cookbook say to have it bake for?"

"Twenty five minutes with foil on and then twenty five with the foil off."

He pressed the buttons to indicate the timer for twenty minutes and went back to cutting tomatoes, glancing down at Candycorn who was now on his back, swatting at Blaine's foot.

"Rachel, would you please get this damn—_fuck_!" Of course he hadn't been paying attention to the sharp knife in his hand (maybe this cat was really out to get him, it wouldn't surprise Blaine in the slightest) while trying to shake the small ball of orange fuzz off his foot and cut a semi-long stripe down the index finger on his left hand.

He dropped the knife in the sink, rushing over to run water on it. Rachel had skittered over to him quickly, trying to pull back his wrist so she could see his hand.

"Oh Blaine, are you okay?" She asked, concern lighting up her coffee colored eyes.

He hissed and looked up at the ceiling, his other hand curling into a fist as a stinging, sharp pain shot up through his bones, muscles and veins as the cold water pounded onto the swollen, hot skin, numbing him slightly.

"Fuck, no, I'm not okay. Goddamnit that _hurt_." He spoke through his teeth.

"Let me see." She said softly, pulling his hand back from the sink and grabbing a paper towel. She dabbed his finger than he had cut, kissing his cheek when he gave a small wince in pain and pulled the paper towel back to look at the damage. "It doesn't look too bad." She said softly. "Not deep enough for stitches. Just a jagged cut is all."

Blood easily slipped through the long stripe on his finger, seeping into the pattern of his skin and dripping into the palm of his hand. Rachel swallowed, her eyes trailing the drop of blood as it skated down his skin. He went to take the paper towel from her to soak it up and put pressure on it but she stopped him. He frowned softly, confused, looking down at her as she looked up at him. Their eyes connected, hazel searching coffee, before she leaned her head down and pressed a kiss to the tips of his fingers.

"Rachel…what are you—"

Her tongue dipped along his finger, gliding along his cut, the sensation odd and new—and maybe it was purely from Rachel's tongue gliding all the way down to the dip of blood pooling in his palm or the fact that she hadn't broken eye contact with him since she started…but his cock _definitely_ jerked hard in his pants.

He never knew Rachel had had a kink…for…well, blood. They had never really played out either of their kinks before, had talked about them sure, but usually they were both incredibly too impatient to slow down in the bedroom to consider kinks. Blaine had a thing for watersports and Rachel liked her hair pulled…_hard_. So okay, maybe her being into blood wasn't exactly a far stretch. And it wasn't exactly his thing…but seeing her eyes go from concerned to incredibly turned on in three seconds flat was honestly all that he really needed to get going. He leaned down as he tilted her chin with his other hand, capturing her lips. The kiss was hard and desperate, his tongue sliding into her mouth without waiting for permission as he hooked his arm around her waist. She moaned softly as he jerked her up against his body, her legs wrapping around his waist and squeezing him. He could feel the heat of her center pressing against his stomach as he shoved her onto the kitchen counter, harshly pushing aside the cookbook, a plate of cookies, a few plastic cups, some silverware and a container full of cereal onto the floor as he was purposely a little rough with her.

Blaine hiked himself up onto the counter to straddle her legs, lifting her dress up and over her head in one fluid motion. He placed the fabric under her to cradle her spine against the hard surface of the counter and spread her legs, kissing the tops of her thighs as he looked up at her. He bit his lip and squeezed her knee—making sure this was alright before he continued. She knew that all she had to say was a simple 'stop' and he would…but he just wanted to make sure she was okay.

A slight head nod was all he needed and he leaned down and kissed the inside of her thighs, sliding her underwear aside before he blew on her clit. She bit her lip and let out a harsh moan, his lips trailing down to swirl his tongue along the soft skin of her thigh near her pussy lips before he bit down, hard—hard enough to draw blood.

And he did.

Rachel hissed, her hips buckling into Blaine's mouth as the hot, metallic taste flowed into his mouth. The jerk of her hips smeared the blood across his lower lip as he circled his tongue over the bite marks, trailing all the way up to circle her clit before sliding inside of her, angling up as his thumb came to brush her clit every so often. It didn't take a long time for her to cum—the taste of her rolling into his mouth as her walls clenched around his tongue. He pulled back and moved to swipe up the blood on her shaking thigh, before kissing her deeply. She moaned at the taste of herself in his mouth, his tongue swirling around hers and gliding across it hungrily. He felt her hand slide down and cup him through his jeans—he was so incredibly hard, aching to get out of the damn confines of his pants.

She unzipped him and pulled him out, making him cum with sprays of white across her pussy and thighs in four hard strokes. He groaned and buried his face in her shoulder, the counter and their skin a mess of blood, sweat, cum and…oddly enough remnants of sugar (they were in the kitchen after all).

Blaine kissed her shoulder blade gently, pulling back to place a kiss on her nose. He stared at her for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing with the edges of his mouth "I think someone has a slight kink that they've been hiding." He said softly, his nose ghosting over her upper lip.

Rachel just giggled, gently pushing on his chest so he'd slide off of her. He did so and cleaned himself up before zipping. "I'm going to go get the band aids with Mickey Mouse on them that you bought and brought home last Friday.' She hummed, pecking his lips before sliding her underwear on after cleaning herself up as well.

Blaine blushed as she jumped from the counter, smoothing out her skirt. "They were on sale!"

She smirked and went down the hall to retrieve the items, hopefully bringing the Neosporin with her. He glanced around the kitchen and rubbed the back of his neck. The counter was a mess and various items were littered across the floor. He really had to make a mental note that kitchen sex (along with any kinks that went with it) should really come after dinner…when all the dishes were done or something.

The oven beeped.

0o0o0o0o

**First snowfall**

Okay, so maybe he was being sort of ridiculous. No, maybe he _definitely_ was. But he couldn't help it. Blaine absolutely loved winter and pretty much everything the season brought with it. He loved the snow and the way the flakes fell ever so perfectly, just like the song said, on noses and eyelashes. He loved wrapping himself up in giant sweaters and peacoats, beanies and scarves—wrapping gloved hands around Rachel and drawing her close to nuzzle red noses together as he took a walk with her through Central Park. He loved trees covered in snow; the snowmen that were built that always seemed to manage a day before falling apart, hot coffee steam curling out of travel mugs, the concept of Christmas approaching and the city slowly becoming dawned in wreaths with candy canes and twinkle lights and of course, football starting up. But there was nothing he loved more; he was pretty sure, than the very first snowfall of the season.

Every since he was little, he was pretty sure he had been born with a sixth sense for snow. Like, it sounded funny in his head but he always had been able to predict when the first snowfall was going to happen. The wind would be crisper, an icy, frigid feeling that went all the way down to his bones, the air just…it smelled like _snow_. There was no simple way to put it. But every year, no matter what day snow decided to grace the city or town he was in with its presence, he was always right in predicting it at last a few hours before. His mother had always told him that he could do the job of weatherman twice as better as some of the assclowns that were working on the news stations on TV…he kept that in mind for future reference in case his understudy positions didn't go his way.

Rachel had gone to bed a long time ago, curled up into his side, her nose dipped into his shoulder as her arm settled across his waist—but he hadn't been able to sleep. He knew it was going to snow—he could sense it from the moment he walked out of his understudy practice to head home.

And then, finally, at three AM he saw them—bright, white, fluffy flakes of snow starting to come down until a pace was reached and inches of snow started to cover the city of New York. He nearly jumped out of bed, stirring Rachel beside him as he searched for layers to put on.

"Hey, sleepy head—"

"Blaine?" She frowned softly as she squinted from her position on the pillow. "What's going on, what's wrong?" She asked, still half asleep—her voice was confused, not sure whether sure she should be alarmed or not at his fast paced motions.

"Nothing," He smiled, pulling on a layer of thermals before yanking on a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt and finally his boots. "Come on, I want to show you something."

She sighed. "Now?" She glanced at the clock. "Babe, it's four in the morning."

"Actually it's three." He went into their shared closet and pulled out the warmest things she had, along with a scarf, hat and gloves.

"See, I can't even read the clock it's so early." She mumbled, clearly not happy with Blaine's eager excited self.

He sat on the bed and ran his hands through her hair, kissing her forehead before her lips gently. He then wrapped the scarf around her neck, grinning at her. "Come on, I'll make hot chocolate!"

She really had no choice as he left the room to do so, humming _The Christmas Song_ a bit too cheerily for her liking—but she pulled herself out of bed anyways and yanked her clothes on, following Blaine into the kitchen a few sluggish minutes later.

000

"So let me get this straight. You woke me up at four—"

"Three."

"Three in the morning to look at _snow_."

Blaine grinned. "Not just any snow, the _first_ snowfall of the year."

Rachel sighed, her breath puffing in little clouds of white as she turned and looked at him as they stood outside on their balcony—large flakes of snow falling down in rapid succession all around them.

"That's what's great about first snowfalls, they happen every year." She mumbled, sipping her hot chocolate. The liquid burned her tongue and the roof of her mouth but the sensation was welcome against the frigid air.

"This is different." He said softly, taking her hand in his to remove her one glove. She started to protest but then noticed he was doing the same—to show their wedding rings. "These make it different."

Blaine slid his fingers through hers, the lights from their deck and the city bouncing off her diamond ring and creating small cylindrical tubes of rainbow colored light refract off the snow at their feet.

Rachel finally smiled, the first and most genuine thing he had seen since she had woken up and wrapped her arms around Blaine's neck, drawing him down for a long, tender kiss that warmed them both up from the inside.

"I love you." She said softly, against his lips, her nose bumping against his.

He cupped her face with his gloved hand, smirking softly as snowflakes peppered her skin—especially on her nose and eyelashes. "I love you too." He murmured.

Blaine loved first snowfalls.

But this one was different. It was special. Because not only was this the first snowfall of the season. It was _their_ first snowfall, together—in New York…as a married couple.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Pancakes  
Pairing: blainchel  
Type: one-shot (because Rachel)  
Rating: PG-13  
**Request**: Breakfast in bed after a big fight

Blaine hated college pamphlets. The smiling faces, wide grins and shiny eyes, open books and notebooks with random scribbling, bright glossy pages with promises of a perfect four years, endless lists of LAIs and extracurriculars to fill a schedule and make a person feel less empty—like college is going to be worth the time and money spent.

Those pamphlets made him want to pull the curls out of his head.

Where was the section in the pamphlet that described the arduous tasks of trying to get a schedule to fit together in a coherent manner while _still_ getting all the credits needed? Where did it point out that unless you're okay with being a failure, weekend parties and everything that's supposed to be _fun_ about college needs to be pushed aside for study routines, ten page research papers and truck loads of homework? _Where_ exactly, between the smooth technicolor pages of the schools crest and map, was the paragraph on how one would be so incredibly busy with running around between group meetings and studying for bio while writing a research paper on Dante that he'd forgot about his girlfriend's performances?

Twice.

The slam of the apartment door was what had jolted Blaine up from falling asleep on his notes and laptop, a word document on page 56 from the press of his wrist and head on the keyboard and ink filled indentations blotched blue on the right side of his face. He cleared his throat, sleepily running his hand over his face before tilting his head confusedly at the word document before shutting his laptop. He stood up, leafing his fingers through his messy curls as his bones cracked, muscles aching a bit from lack of a good night sleep before he padded his way down the hall—and was greeted with a very pissed off Rachel Berry.

Blaine froze under her murderous gaze, pursing his lips and trying to decide whether he should speak or not before she exploded. Now, usually he knew that when she was staring at him like she might peel his skin off and staple it back on inside out that he should probably stay quiet but…a frustrated part of him still had a research paper to finish and he was just sodamntired.

"I—"

She put her hand up, making his mouth snap shut as her other hand dropped the heels that she had obviously taken off in the hallway, tumbling to the ground with a dull thump.

"What day is it, Blaine?" Her voice was like an unsettling calm before the storm.

He swallowed. "Wednesday?" He offered weakly.

"Wednesday!?" She screeched suddenly, making him wince. He nodded softly and barely had time to side step a calendar being thrown at his head.

"Hey!" He yelped as the small desk calendar that they kept on the kitchen counter knocked into his shoulder. His damn reflexes were sluggish anymore. It made a loud thwapping noise as it fell to the wooden floor and Blaine bent to pick it up when he was sure Rachel was done projectile launching things at him.

"Let me help you clarify, Mr. Literature Major, its Wednesday the _twelfth_."

Blaine sighed, his eyes closing as realization dawned on him before his fingers even curled around the calendar. A small swear word tumbled from his lips as he stood back up and fixed Rachel with an apologetic frown.

"Your winter show," He set the calendar down on the counter and tried to approach her. "I'm sorry, I was buried under a term paper and then I passed out—"

"This is the second time, Blaine. I really _needed_ you there." He hated the way her voice started to quiver but she backed up a step when he tried to touch her.

"I know, look Rachel, I'm really sorry. I meant to get ready in time to make it but—"

"But a 1400's dead Italian writer was more important than your girlfriend." She finished, all but snapping at him as she took off her coat.

Blaine knew this was a really good time _not_ to correct her that she meant 1200 to the 1300's and just silently played with the ends of his t-shirt before trying to explain again.

"You know how hard this semester has been for me." He said instead.

"You barely have time for anything anymore Blaine; eating dinner, coming to my show, _us_." She emphasized, pointing to the space between them—her voice strained and incredibly upset. "Always buried under books, papers and writing meetings."

Something in her tone made him bristle—was she accusing him or something? "You think I like this?" He asked, his voice rising in the slightest as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "You think I _like_ being so stressed out and busy all the time that I space and forget important things like my girlfriend's performances?"

"Do you have any idea how important tonight was for me?" Her voice was now loud enough to bother their neighbors and he wondered if they'd end up getting another noise complaint from their landlord—on the bright side at least it wouldn't be from sex this time. "No, I guess you wouldn't, seeing as how I barely see you for you to ask how school is going!"

Blaine's patience was quickly diminishing. "That's _not_ fair; I ask you how your classes are going."

"Oh," She scoffed, her voice no longer strong and angry but choked with tears. And he _hated_ that he was so upset at this point that he couldn't even find the room to care that her eyes were filling with tears. "Right, I forgot you squeeze me into your busy schedule five minutes at breakfast before you have to leave for class or when you're half asleep in bed at night."

Anger fizzed under his skin—frustration, stress and sleep deprivation from this whole goddamn semester (all the hard work and hours and missed time with his friends and girlfriend) built up in his chest, making his ribs feel like they might crack under the pressure if he didn't let it out.

So he did.

"It's one performance Rachel and you were an _understudy_, I'm sure I didn't miss much."

Rachel's mouth fell open in disbelief, tears slipping past her eyelashes and rolling down her cheeks. Blaine's chest was rising and falling quickly, all that irritation he had been keeping inside finally dissipating—leaving him in the wake of what he had just said.

His face softened. "Rachel—" He tried but she glided past him, a sob pouring from her mouth as she went into their bedroom and slammed the door shut.

000

Sleeping on the couch was never ideal—Blaine was actually just tall enough that his ankles tended to push over the side and the various springs and lumps dug into all angles of his body. He flipped the pancakes in the pan, adjusting the heat before checking on a pot of water boiling and wiping his hands off to cut up a few strawberries. Cooking for Rachel always tended to put her in a good mood…and he hoped fresh pancakes with fruit and her mint tea would do no different. Blaine knew that his schedule was horrendously busy and that he barely had time to sleep let alone be a good boyfriend but all the stress and frustration should have never been directed at her. And he hated himself for making her cry when it was apparent that she just missed him.

He piled the pancakes with the diced fruit on top, along with her tea and some silverware onto a tray and carefully started to carry them to their bedroom. Hopefully she hadn't locked the door with her storm off last night because begging through the door with a plate of pancakes seemed oddly pathetic. He guessed her not opening the door with 'I'm Sorry' spelled out in blueberries would have been worse.

But the door opened seamlessly when he tried the knob and he sighed in relief as he opened the door and glanced in at Rachel still asleep in bed, curled up in the sheets on his side of the bed, her face pressed into his pillow. He licked his lips and set the tray down on the nightstand, sitting down and pushing some hair away from her face. She didn't have class on Thursday's until later, so she usually tried to sleep as late as she could to catch up on much needed rest. But he figured pancakes and an apology was worth waking up for.

Rachel shifted gently under his touch, her eyes fluttering open, bright coffee color meeting hazel ones. She frowned softly, sitting up a little and running her hand over her face. She looked over at the tray of pancakes and then at Blaine, swallowing as she leaned against the headboard. Blaine reached over and handed her the cup of tea, trying to give her a tiny apologetic smile.

"You were right about last night. I've been letting my work kind of take over my life." He licked his lips, running his hand over her thigh under the covers. "And just because I'm busy doesn't mean I should neglect really important things," He looked up at her. "Like you."

Rachel smiled softly around the rim of her teacup, sighing softly as she raked her fingers through his hair, trailing her hand down to rest on his neck. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. I know how stressed you've been and that you haven't been missing my performances on purpose." She leaned forward and rested her forehead against his. "I just miss you."

Blaine cupped her face, careful not to jostle the tea in her hands as he kissed her softly, his lips sliding along hers and tasting the mint on her tongue. He gently nipped her lower lip before pulling back, smirking as he tapped her nose with his finger.

"And I've missed you." He nodded, more than she could possibly imagine. "Which is why…" He trailed off, raising his eyebrows at her.

Rachel tilted her head, confused as to what he was inferring to until she noticed the time—ten AM. "Blaine you're—"

He grinned at her, swooping her up in another kiss. "I took off classes today. I told my teachers I was sick and…this way I'll get to spend more time with you."

"And finish your paper." Rachel added softly, running her thumb over his lower lip. "I may be selfish but I'm not enough that you're going to _fail_."

He chuckled, making her giggle. He leaned closer and kissed her neck, her hand moving to set the tea down on the tray. "I got a fever," he teased, "…and the only prescription is more Rachel Berry."

She snorted, tickling his sides as he kissed down her neck and they both fell back onto the pillows, their lips joining in another kiss.

The pancakes got cold—neither of them seemed to notice.


	3. Chapter 3

Awake | Blainchel | 1,054 words

He jolts awake when he feels small kisses peppered against the back of his neck, feather light touches on his collar bones and small hands running down his arms. He sighs, blinks the sleep from his eyes and squints at the clock across the room. Five am. He fell asleep again; god damnit.

"I'm awake." He mutters, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"You were dead asleep." She counters, still rubbing his arms.

He hums, doesn't commit to words because he can't find them, his mouth is dry like chalk dust is clogging his throat, making his tongue stick to the roof and his brain is fuzzy from not getting enough sleep.

"I was going to let you sleep but you're in a terrible position." She rubs the back of his neck now; soothing circles that make him want to close his eyes again. "And my morning regiment starts promptly at five-thirty and I can't do calisthenics in the living room if you're snoozing at your desk."

"M'almost done." He sits up in his chair, his back cracks; he runs his fingers through his messy curls before turning his head to look at her.

Rachel sighs, knowingly; he hates how she does that. "You said that four hours ago…and two days ago…and a week before that." Alright, maybe he sort of loves how she does that too.

He shrugs, giving her a crooked smile that he doesn't feel. "At least I'm consistent."

"You're _exhausted_, Blaine," She rounds to the front of him, leans against the desk and cups his face, running her thumbs along the dark purple bags under his eyes. "You're living on a caffeine liquid diet."

Blaine's eyes tick to the half finished cup of coffee on his desk, surrounded by papers, open books and highlighters. The liquid is cold now, the milk congealing in the cup, making his nose crinkle in distaste.

"Wanna get me a new cup?"

"Want a whole nother reason to feel aggravated, Anderson?"

He frowns. "No thank you."

Term papers are the worst. No one talks about these things before sending you off to college; they don't mention the long hours, the no sleep, the caffeine addictions, the concerned girlfriends or the fact that college professors liked to torture you with constant term papers with the same guidelines and the only difference a variety of topics. He's pretty sure no one would choose to suffer through this if they knew. At least, he's almost certain.

"Swear, just…" He sits up further in his seat and clicks some keys on his laptop, waking the screen up. He knows it's the lack of sleep when he starts to feel bad for the inanimate object that he had to wake it up to get back to work too. "Some editing and a few more paragraphs and I'll sleep."

She shakes her head and moves his chair back a little, straddles his lap, demands to be his center of attention. He's too tired for this but rubs her thighs anyways, contemplates resting his head on her chest and closing his eyes.

"Rachel, what are you doing?" He sighs and bites back a yawn.

"Distracting you."

He narrows his eyes. "And this is supposed to make me want to sleep?" He hisses when she grinds down on his lap, his fingers tightening on her thighs.

She smirks and leans forward; her eyelashes brushing against her pretty pink cheeks, no makeup, no artificial blush, genuine beauty—just how he likes her, natural, gorgeous, _his_. "I guess you'll just have to wait," He bites back another sound as she grinds down again, her inner thighs waking part of him up. "and see."

He nips kisses along her jaw, his stomach fluttering. "You play dirty."

Blaine knows exactly where this is heading and exactly what she's doing—the consequences of this are only going to make him more tired…but he's not exactly going to stop her either. _Really_. The backlash of him pushing Rachel of his lap would extend for fucking weeks; he'd never hear the end of it.

She drags her hips back as she slides her hand inside his boxer shorts, grabbing at his length, squealing a little as his hips buck her into her chest when she flicks her thumb over his head.

Rachel grins against his lips. "Thought you liked it when I played dirty. Usually ends up with a pretty happy finish for you."

Blaine kisses her hard then, silencing her, tongue diving into her mouth to taste her with a fever that he didn't possess before, strength and determination suddenly reawakened at her touch. He keeps his hands on her hips so that when he rocks forward into her quickening wrist that he doesn't knock her off his lap, noises filtering out of his mouth and into her neck when the kiss breaks. He pants, her thumb lacing pre-cum over his head, guiding smoothly along the vein pulsing in beat with his heart along his length. She wastes no time in letting him cum, which he's thankful for—he's pretty sure he'd die of exhaustion if he was forced to edge. Not that he minds teasing; that's what ninety-five of their relationship is based off of, but he's glad for the sweet release tonight. The intimacy of it. The closeness of her body; he can feel her breathing against his chest, rapidly, her rib cage digging into his, the slight sway of her hips, the slowing of her hand, the gentle pants of her breath ricocheting off his mouth.

Rachel swallows, slowly extracts her hand from his pants, kissing him gently around his mouth and lingering at the corners where a soft smile is pulling. "Go," She reaches behind her and easily closes the lid of the laptop. "To bed."

He smirks and shakes his head; literally the worst. "Only if you join me." In one fluid motion he picks her up, hauling her over his shoulder and chuckling at her squeals.

"Blaine Anderson, put me down!"

He doesn't abide to her wishes until he's in the bedroom, dropping her gracefully onto the bed after he closes the door with his food.

It's needless to say that Rachel's morning routine and his term paper were forgotten about; disappearing easily in hushed whispers, deep kisses and throaty moans.


End file.
